


your own apple

by couldaughter



Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [9]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Fluff, M/M, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Teacher Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: Mr Sims hummed beside him, writing something in his big notebook. Leo wasn’t sure what the humming meant, but it was a nice sound so he didn’t mind. He chewed on his special necklace a bit while he worked on a nice, roundfive(“Down and around and a flag on high…”).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815988
Comments: 50
Kudos: 471





	your own apple

Leo was getting really good at adding and taking away. He knew that because Mr Sims, who helped him every time they did maths, gave him a sticker every time he did well, and he had _loads_ of stickers now.

He was also getting a lot better at writing his numbers. That one hadn’t needed any stickers to show him; he could tell because he was holding his pencil better now he had a pencil grip. It was purple and squishy and really, really helpful. Right now he was writing a neat _four_ in his maths book while Mrs Li got everyone to sing the number rhymes (“Down and over, down once more…”).

Mr Sims hummed beside him, writing something in his big notebook. Leo wasn’t sure what the humming meant, but it was a nice sound so he didn’t mind. He chewed on his special necklace a bit while he worked on a nice, round _five_ (“Down and around and a flag on high…”).

“That looks lovely, Leo,” said Mr Sims quietly, as he moved onto another five. “Some very straight lines.”

Leo hummed back up at him. He liked how Mr Sims knew that he didn’t really like talking. He never asked him something he couldn’t answer with one of his special cards, or just a noise or some of the signs mummy was teaching him.

He put his hand on his chin and bent his arm forwards until it rested on the table. Mr Sims smiled at him and said, “You’re welcome, Leo.”

* * *

Naomi wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected when she signed up to be a secret reader for the term, but it certainly hadn’t been walking into the classroom to find all the children sat quietly, eyes shut, while Jon, wearing a tiara and a cape, held one of them on his lap. He gave her a thumbs up as she sat in the spinny chair.

“Alright everyone, open your eyes,” he said, clear voiced and not too loud. All the children did, in fact, open their eyes, even the ones who’d been cheating by keeping one eye open at a time, or peeking between their fingers. They all chorused ‘Good afternoon,’ on Jon’s cue, and fell fairly quiet. It wasn’t unnatural; he just clearly had them well organised.

Olivia immediately launched herself at Naomi’s knees, clambering up and arranging herself on her lap with barely a pause. Naomi wrapped an arm around her stomach and kissed her lightly on the forehead, overfull of warm feelings, before smiling at the class.

“Hello, everyone (“Hello!!!” came the reply),” she began. She pulled the book she’d brought out from behind her back, the weathered pages still familiar a few decades since she’d last read it. “I’ve brought in a lovely story to read today, all about a family of skeletons…”

The class listened beautifully to the story, with nary a scream or interruption besides the expected laughs and gasps. Jon, still wearing his tiara, talked quietly to the child in his lap throughout, eventually lifting him gently and putting him back beside him on the carpet. Naomi smiled a little at the thought of telling the Jon she’d met about what he’d be doing in five years’ time.

He’d hiss like a cat, she thought. An incredible image.

Once everyone had said thank you for the story and been chivvied off to collect their coats and bags, Naomi made to leave for the playground for pick-up.

“One moment, Miss Herne,” said Jon, a creature of habit. He was wearing a new cardigan and the same old shirt and trousers, a little scuffed at the knees. The tiara, oddly, suited him. “I wanted to say thank you, for the story.”

“Oh, it was no trouble really,” she said. It was still odd seeing him without feeling a scream bubbling in her throat. “It’s an old favourite.”

“In a dark dark house,” Jon recited, clearly fond. “May as well introduce them to something frightening with a bit of poetry.”

* * *

Kaya squinted at Mr Sims.

“You’ve got nail polish on,” she said, clambering onto his lap and grabbing his fingers to get a closer look.

Mr Sims, used to her by now, picked her up under the armpits and put her on the carpet. “No climbing, Kaya. I may be skinny but I’m not the monkey bars.”

She pouted and considered bursting into tears.

Unfortunately Mr Sims was wise to her tricks — that was what he said the last time she tried it, his voice all warm and dry like a towel fresh out of the tumble dryer.

“It’s pretty,” she said, deciding against tears, and grabbed at his hands again. They were a little bit chipped, especially on the thumbs, but the sparkly purple was still enchanting. “Did you do them?”

“No,” said Mr Sims, again taking his hands back and reaching for the tambourine on Mrs Li’s desk. “My hands aren’t very steady.”

Kaya frowned thoughtfully. Mr Sims had really nice handwriting but she did notice sometimes when he had to do Harry’s shoelaces or pick up all the Numicon off the floor after maths his fingers got all shaky. “Who did them then?”

“My husband,” said Mr Sims, after a moment. His fingers trembled around the tambourine, making a funny little twinkling noise.

“Oh,” said Kaya. “He must be really nice.” Mummy painted Kaya’s nails sometimes and it always made Kaya feel really happy.

Mr Sims smiled gently. “Yes, he is.”

* * *

Running the tombola at the school’s summer fête was apparently a highly coveted position, but Penny had to say that, three hours in, she was really not seeing the appeal.

Most of the children who came up and quite a few of the adults were gunning for a large cuddly monkey, ticket number 555, but no one had managed it quite yet. There had been more than a few looks of grudging acceptance when she handed over a tub of mini rolls or a Cadbury’s selection box, as opposed to the usual manic delight her class had at being offered seemingly infinite amounts of chocolate.

Nick had managed to bag a spot on the local crafts table, the lucky bitch, and was sat comfortably in a folding chair receiving about four customers an hour.

Jon was at least enduring tombola hell alongside her, although she’d offered him the single chair they’d been allocated so her knees were giving her absolute hell even after a short lunch break to eat a cone of chips and drink a Calypso (cola flavoured, of course). He was a good source of running commentary, anyway, and he was much better at making change than she was. Sometimes he had it ready before she handed him the takings.

A good chunk of the prizes had been won by the time Martin wandered up to the stall, a cone of chips in one hand and a plastic bag with a two litre bottle of lemonade in the other.

“We have a fishing champion, then?” She joked.

Martin laughed, then shrugged. “It was always my favourite as a littlie. I s’pose it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Well, yes, but I can do that, and I’m rubbish at fishing for lemonade,” said Jon. Penny rolled her eyes.

Martin put the cone of chips into Jon’s hands, ignoring his mumbled protest that he wasn’t hungry, and dug a pound coin out of his pocket.

Penny held out the bucket of folded tickets with a smile. “What are you aiming for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Martin said, tilting his head. “The monkey or the cheese board. And the cheese board is a distant second.”

“He likes Wensleydale,” said Jon. He looked intently at the bucket, like it was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

As Martin stuck his hand in and swept it about a bit, Penny kept an eye on Jon. She wouldn’t put cheating on the tombola for his husband beyond him, to be honest, but she wasn’t sure how he’d manage it without x-ray specs.

Jon looked away after a few seconds and pushed his glasses up, looking self-conscious. Martin tugged his hand out at the same moment, and picked out the extras to put back in the bucket.

The first three tickets were duds. “Always good to get rid of some of the chaff,” said Penny, cheerfully.

The fourth was 460, a box of Maltesers.

“Oooh,” said Martin, happily. He opened the fifth quickly, and cheerfully threw 253 into the recycling bucket Penny held out.

He handed the last ticket to Jon, apparently determined to involve him in all the fun school-sanctioned gambling could provide.

Jon opened the ticket. “555,” he said, sounding almost artificially surprised. “Is that the monkey?”

“Oh, you better believe it is,” said Penny. She pulled it down from the table and handed it to Jon, who automatically hugged it and then winced in embarrassment.

Martin chuckled. “My lucky charm, you are.”

Jon huffed, and stood up. “It was your ticket, Martin,” he said. “Your monkey.” He handed it across the table, failed to conceal a soft grin as Martin clutched it to his side, and steadfastly ignored Penny as she collapsed into laughter beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> i have been putting these little snippets in one doc for a while and today i realised i may as well post them all together as one fic! teaching is often stressful and often difficult but it also has so many moments of (as alison bechdel might say) perfect balance, where everything feels just right.
> 
> i have run the chocolate tombola at a school christmas fair while in the midst of a major depressive episode and it is, in fact, one of the worst places to be in the world, ESPECIALLY when you don't have a chair
> 
> calypso nation represent btw. those little cartons of not very good squash are still being sold and i hope they will be for decades more
> 
> the book naomi reads to the class is of COURSE funnybones by allan and janet ahlberg
> 
> title from ode to the present by pablo neruda! this series is, at its heart, about moving forward and i think, especially with how grim s5 is (love it for its place in the horror genre! will not be writing fic set within it!), it's what jon deserves
> 
> join me on twitter/tumblr @dotsayers, where i mostly talk about horror movies and how stressful supply teaching is


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